


The drinks at the hanged man are garbage, but the company's good

by Jarakrisafis



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:20:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26216305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jarakrisafis/pseuds/Jarakrisafis
Summary: It was rather hard to not notice a new arrival in the Hanged Man...
Relationships: Female Brosca/Varric Tethras
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9
Collections: Black Emporium 2020





	The drinks at the hanged man are garbage, but the company's good

**Author's Note:**

  * For [girlwondersteph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlwondersteph/gifts).



“An interesting story.”

Varric is not one to startle easily, he has enough enemies his reflexes are on a hair trigger. Or perhaps one could say on a crossbow trigger. Thing is, he hadn’t noticed her. Or rather, he hadn’t noticed her moving. It was rather hard to not notice a new arrival in the Hanged Man when he was in the middle of a story and the patrons were both quiet and sitting down. After all, they knew he’d stop if they interrupted with anything other than meekly going for a top up to their mugs.

“Have you never heard of the Hero of Ferelden before then?” he asks and she smiles. Varric is reminded of the deepstalkers they’d encountered deep in the lost thaig. It was a hunter's smile and he was suddenly and inexplicably the prey.

“I’ve heard of her," she finally says as she casually leans against the side of his chair and he can see the outline of armour through the grey cloak covering her from chin to foot. “I just hadn’t heard that particular version.”

“Ah, well, clearly that’s because you’ve never been here before and met my fine self.” He gives her a smile, the one he’s practised enough it doesn’t look forced, the one he uses to cover things he’d rather not show.

She laughs, the sound light and at odds with the tension still present in her body. “Your fine self, hmmmm? And might I have the pleasure of a name then?”

“Varric Tethras. Would you like a drink of not very good ale from this terrible establishment?” He ignores the protest from the direction of the bar as he pushes a chair out with his foot.

This time the smile seems more genuine as she settles herself down. “Would this be the grand and illustrious author Varric Tethras?”

“I’m not sure illustrious is the right word,” he says, trying not to preen at somebody who clearly knows who he is. Perhaps it's a little conceited of him, but having fans does wonders for one's self esteem.

“You won’t argue that you’re not grand though,” she points out.

He smirks, “it’s the chest hair.”

She laughs, accepting a mug from Nora with a nod of thanks and Varric frowns, “you never did tell me your name.”

“Nat.” She says before taking a pull from the mug and then grimacing. “What does everyone do here? Stay permanently drunk so they can’t taste this nugshit?”  
“Something like that,” he says, thoroughly distracted by something he can’t place. He’s missing a piece of a puzzle without knowing which puzzle he should be looking at. “Do I know you?” he finally asks, before he can twist himself into a state trying to recall how he might know her.

“Apparently.” Her tone is entirely deadpan and very much at odds with the smile on her face as she leans back. Casteless brand clear on her face and the hint of armour he can see with the cloak open a little is clearly high quality, edged in a royal blue.

Royal blue. Brand. Nat.

Calm Varric. Calm. Totally not sitting with one of your Heroes. The Hero. Commander and Paragon and all that. She’s just another dwarf… Nope. Not working. Shit! Deep breaths. “Natia Brosca?” he asks once he’s sure his voice is steady.

She leans forwards, one eye closing in a slow wink. “In the flesh.”

And he’s done for. He can feel the heat creeping over his cheeks. He was telling an outrageous story about her deeds while she was listening. He’s never going to be able to live this down. He’s a dead dwarf. An ex-merchant prince.

Her laughter is light and carefree as she pulls her chair in closer to the table, leaning her elbows on the wooden surface and propping her chin up. “So, you were telling a story, care to continue the next chapter?”

No. No way is he going to tell her a story he cobbled together from all the sources he could find and his imagination about what she did when she went back to Orzammar. “Well,” he says slowly, “I think I’d like to hear your version of how you crowned a King, solved the mystery of a lost house and ruthlessly destroyed the Orzammar Carta.” He gives her his best smile. The one that charms ladies at the Guild dinners he just can’t get out of.

She laughs again. “For research purposes I take it.” She waves a hand at Nora, holding up a couple of fingers and then holding up her mug. “It’s a long story.”

He smiles back. “All the best ones are.”

She leans over, voice lowering into a low purr. "The best storytellers know all the little details."

He has no reply as she winks at him again as she sits back up.

Not one of his sources mentioned that she was like this. If he wasn't in awe of her before now (and why wouldn't he be, she was a Paragon that actually deserved the title with everything she'd done), he certainly would be now.


End file.
